


A Place to Rest (Part 6/?)

by rubycrowned



Series: A Place to Rest [6]
Category: 1D - Fandom, One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, WIP, a place to rest, lil bit of smutty stuff, the others dont really feature this chap so leaving them out, told you id get to it eventually, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubycrowned/pseuds/rubycrowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you know where your love is? Do you think that you lost it? You felt it so strong, but nothing's turned out how you wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Rest (Part 6/?)

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up ridic late last night trying to get this out for you guys jsyk. So here it is (hopefully quick enough that some of you will take back the death threats...at least til you actually read the chapter). Ari was back to beta-ing for me this chap (better for her mental health really), so thank you love. And this chapter's inspiration was 'Where the Story Ends' by The Fray (god the number of fics I have with their songs, you'd almost think I liked this band or something)

“What did we do, Zayn?”

***

Liam tasted like home.

Like birthday cake and tea and that undefinable hint of pure Liam.

And this was really happening. Zayn could feel every curve of Liam’s lips pressed heatedly against his own; the muscles of his neck, taut beneath the hand which wasn’t still entwined in Liam’s hair. Could feel Liam’s hands sliding up under his shirt to caress feather-light up Zayn’s spine; touches which made him shiver and arch his back closer to the other man.

Because, uncertain as Zayn had been about anything like this happening, Liam was far from passive in their movements. He elicited a low groan from Zayn as his tongue licked inside Zayn’s mouth, as though trying to learn the taste of him, like Zayn had just a few minutes ago.

Zayn couldn’t help himself keening forward when Liam finally pulled back, flushed a delicious red and panting just out of time of Zayn’s own breathlessness. But, although he disentangled himself from Zayn – somehow they had ended up half lying on the couch, limbs a woven mess – and stood, Liam immediately reached for his hand, mumbling only a quiet “Stay with me tonight?”

And god if his voice wasn’t throaty and already sounding half-wrecked, but even now, still slightly questioning; giving Zayn an out, as if his previous reaction, and his currently far too-tight trousers, weren’t a fairly good indication of his approval.

He linked his fingers through Liam’s and stood, pressing his forehead to the other man’s, lining up their faces for a quiet moment and to drop a chaste kiss to his bright and swollen lips. Leaning away again, he stepped around Liam towards the doorway, tugging gently on their interlocked digits.

“Come on, then.”

Liam didn’t need to be told twice to follow Zayn out of the lounge, flicking the light off as they passed through the door and plunging them into darkness. Zayn couldn’t see him in the sudden black, glad he knew the path up the stairs easily now. He could hear little besides their footsteps and their breathing; still that little bit deeper, more irregular than normal. Liam had let himself be led, rubbing circles into the back of Zayn’s hand. He held back slightly, allowing a gap to remain between them everywhere except that one attachment, but in the dark Zayn could swear he still felt the heat radiating from the other man, making the hair on his arms stand up in anticipation.

He took them to his own room; he wasn’t sure where Liam had had in mind, but he didn’t think he himself could handle doing whatever this was turning into in Liam’s room. It was still so much Liam  _and_ Danielle’s room that it would have weirded Zayn out, let alone what it might do to Liam. However, if he was surprised by the room Zayn had brought him to, Liam didn’t show it; instead, he shifted them back together, until they were touching from hip to chest, locked at the lips.

Liam kicked the door shut behind them – gently; Zayn didn’t want to consider the possibility of waking up the other member of the household right at that minute.

They continued with lazy, unrushed kisses for a few minutes longer, long enough that Zayn could feel a definite hardness at his hip. He smirked as he pulled back – this time it was Liam who gave a low whine at the loss of contact; he turned them and mouthed a trail along Liam’s jaw and down his neck as he walked him backwards until they bumped into the end of the bed.

He dropped them down and crawled up the bed so that his forearms framed Liam’s head and he could duck down for another kiss before continuing his previous path. When he sucked a mark into Liam’s collarbone, Liam let out a whimper and Zayn couldn’t help but respond by grinding his hips down into Liam’s, causing a gasp from one man and a deep groan from the other.

And at this point, Zayn thought there were definitely too many layers of clothes happening between them, and  _definitely_  too much material constricting his swollen cock, painful under the close-fitting denim of his trousers.

Zayn started to yank at his belt, trying to pull it through the loops with uncoordinated fingers, distracted by the butterfly kisses dancing across his jaw. When it finally came loose, another set of hands were there, helping to tug his jeans down and grazing teasingly close to his dick as fingers ran under the elastic of his pants. When those too were removed, Zayn could have moaned with relief at the sensation of his freed cock; did moan into Liam’s open mouth when tentative fingers encircled the base then tightened to stroke firmly upwards, thumb sliding over the head. Resisting the urge to grind down once more, he managed to pull back just enough to reach between them and pop the button on Liam’s pants; never had Zayn been more glad that Liam tended not to wear a belt. Liam got the gist pretty quickly, lifting his hips eagerly so Zayn could tug his pants down with his trousers in one relatively smooth movement which surprised Zayn a little, considering the way his hands had continued to shake with a nervous energy of slight disbelief; that Liam was still definitely here, mostly visible beneath him, lit by the streetlights coming through the un-curtained window, cock standing hard and dark against his shirt from the party, precome starting to bead at the tip.

Liam took advantage of Zayn’s moment of inaction, rolling them over so that now Zayn was staring up into the glint of crinkled eyes for a brief moment, fighting the urge to push back the hair that was falling forward to obscure them, then up at the ceiling as Liam ducked his head to lick a filthy stripe up his neck and behind his ear. Hot breath tickled Zayn’s ear.

“I want you.”

Zayn bit back the groan that threatened, turning it into a garbled, throaty chuckle when Liam moved slightly to tug lightly on Zayn’s earlobe and Zayn had no choice but to release some sort of aborted sound.

“Oh, really?” he bit out, rolling his hips up into Liam’s, making him gasp when Zayn’s erection dragged along his, “I’d nev- never have guessed.”

Liam’s fingers dug blunt crescents into Zayn’s hips and Zayn arched his back, pressing their chests together; Liam gave his own short, breathless bark of laughter. He looked down at their still-clothed torsos, and Zayn felt a finger brush a light trail from his knee up the outside of his naked thigh.

“I feel as though we’ve gone about this backwards, or…upside down or something.”

Zayn felt a lazy smile spread across his features.

“Well, since when have we ever done anything the regular way, eh? Besides,” he slid his hands up under the back of Liam’s shirt; warm, smooth skin turned to goosebumps beneath his touch, “there’s an easy fix for that.”

He went to lift the shirt up, but had forgotten to consider the fit of it, and the buttons securing it to Liam’s frame, all of which promptly caused it to get stuck halfway off. It left Liam with his arms stuck at an awkwardly useless angle, and the noise Zayn made definitely  _wasn’t_  a giggle, but it set Liam off laughing all the same. Both were so busy shaking with laughter that it took several minutes before they could get him disentangled from his fabric entrapment.

***

Liam was looking up at Zayn from his position on Zayn’s chest, familiar from the many nights over the past months (years, really) that they’d dropped off together – although the nudity was mildly more novel – eyes round, still blinking away sleep.

“What did we do?” he repeated, tinged with just the slightest edge of hysteria.

And this,  _this_ , was why Zayn had never acted on those impulses which had been slowly building lately, impatient at his ignoring them. Because he was terrified that they were living in this delicate bubble, shiny and perfect and completely unique to them. And if he moved too much, too fast, too  _anything_ , then they would pop. Zayn would tumble to the ground and only be able to watch as Liam ran.

Liam wasn’t moving away, though.

Yet.

“Nothing, Li. We did nothing.”

***

They were lying side by side now, calming down from their second fit of laughter that night, and now, Zayn sensed that the feverish rush that had been driving them with such intensity up until then seemed to have disappeared with it.

Zayn’s t-shirt had also got lost at some point in the struggle, and Liam was drawing on his naked chest, from one tattoo to the next, focused on the patterns he made rather than looking Zayn in the eye as he murmured a shy “Do you, do you want to…?”

Zayn relaxed into the dancing touches, still horny but also tired, and content enough to recognise that the fervour, which had fired Liam with determination and certainty, had also been extinguished; Zayn loved (the thought slipped out before Zayn could catch it) this quiet, more hesitant version just as much, but he simply lifted a hand to cup Liam’s cheek, a small smile curving his lips when Liam immediately pushed back into it, turned his head to press a kiss to Zayn’s palm.

“Not tonight.”

“But-” Liam dropped his hand from its doodling to cup Zayn’s still semi-hard cock with just enough pressure to have Zayn biting his lip in a smirk; not entirely hesitant, then.

“No, babe,” the endearment rolled off his tongue effortlessly once he’d schooled his expression and moved Liam’s hand back to his chest, entrapped within Zayn’s own; he couldn’t really believe he’d managed to keep from slipping, from admitting his affection before now, “You asked me to stay with you tonight. Well, I’m still here; I’m not saying never…but not tonight, yeah?”

Frown lines still furrowed Liam’s brow, confusion and perhaps a touch of hurt at the refusal, but they smoothed out a lot when Zayn scattered gentle kisses over them, across his forehead, down his nose to finally catch his lips in a slow tangle of tongue and nonsense whispers. His face had completely cleared by the time they separated and Zayn shuffled beneath the covers of the bed, lifting the duvet to allow Liam to crawl in next to him.

Liam lay curled up under his arm, face pressed into Zayn’s neck, almost like he was trying to inhale him. And Zayn had often appreciated how convenient, how nice it was that they had always seemed to fit together like this, like pieces of a puzzle, but now it was a whole other level of intimacy, skin-on-skin contact along the entire length of their bodies. It was comforting.

Zayn stayed awake as he followed Liam’s breathing shift to the deep, even breaths of slumber. He pressed a final kiss to the crown of his head, taking in his own lungful of  _Liam_.

He spoke a final whisper into Liam’s hair before resting his head back and closing his eyes, as though sharing a secret.

“ _If you ask me to stay? Then I will_ always _stay_.”

***

“I…that was hardly nothing, Zayn. We…we-”

Liam was floundering, and Zayn could see that he was probably pretty close to having a full-on freak out, so he dug his hands out from under the layers of blankets to cup Liam’s face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

“Okay, maybe not  _nothing_ ,” Zayn very determinedly does  _not_  roll his eyes, “But nothing that is worth worrying about. Hey, it’s not like we haven’t had a snog as mates before-”

He’s cut off by a snort from Liam, and yeah, okay, that’s fair enough because last night was definitely more than the odd time their lips had briefly met back when they were teenagers; when they were standing at the edge, when anything and everything could happen, could become theirs if they just reached out and grabbed it.

Zayn’s expression sobered and he made sure Liam was making eye contact before he spoke because Liam needed to hear this; Zayn needed Liam to hear this.

“It wasn’t nothing; not for me. I’ve- I’ve had some…feelings for you for a while now, I think, and last night was- well it was pretty fucking brilliant, wasn’t it?” Liam looked as though he might respond, but Zayn cut him off before he had a chance. “And I know that it wasn’t nothing for you either, Liam, that it was the first time that you’ve done anything since…since Danielle. But that’s pretty much it, isn’t it; I don’t know what you feel for me, what you’re feeling right now, but I know what you felt for her. And I haven’t felt that for someone before, not yet, but I know you don’t just get over something like that. I don’t know how you do, but I didn’t, don’t, want you to do it by throwing yourself at someone, especially not at me. Because I can’t do that, I can’t be the rebound. I care too much.”

There were tears beginning to run down Zayn’s wrists; he had been wiping at them as the escaped Liam’s eyes with a determined focus as he spoke; ignoring the pricking in his own. Liam still stared up at him silently, shining with remembered love and loss but still clear; no hint of returning clouds of raw grief.

“That’s why I stopped last night. I care, Li. Don’t make me be the rebound. Please.”

***

Zayn dropped into his seat and stared out the window, absentmindedly watching the airport workers shifting baggage to the rear of the plane.

He was glad he’d packed the majority of his gear the day before, prior to Ana’s party; he and Liam had talked a long while that morning, had barely finished their discussion when a wide-awake Anastasia bounded into Zayn’s room (there were still words balancing on the tip of his tongue, only to be swallowed when the newly-three year old jumped onto the bed), apparently unperturbed by the sight of her dad and Zayn shirtless – and the rest, but bedcovers disguised that for now, at least – in his bed.

After that there was the usual last minute rush to grab that last 5% of Zayn’s belongings which always seemed to take almost as long as the other 95% all by itself, and then they were out the door and on their way to drop Zayn at the airport for his flight direct to L.A.

Saying goodbye was hard.

It was just the three of them at the airport; he had said goodbye to everyone else already, at the party, and would be meeting the boys from his band in the waiting lounge once he’d checked in. There was also the constant factor of fans and paparazzi around, so Zayn couldn’t necessarily act as he would if he were at their place.  _Liam’s_  place, he mentally corrected.

He still wrapped Ana up in a bear hug when she attached herself to him, insisted quietly that “I’ll be home soon, ‘kay, Tazzie-bear? Be good for your Dad, you hear?” He promised it multiple times to her, hoping she’d understand.

Liam had told him the other week how, when he had finally tried to talk to Ana about Danielle, when he told her that Mummy wasn’t coming back again, she’d accepted it quietly. He had told her that Danielle had gone away, far away and couldn’t come back, because she was dead now, and dead people can’t come visit no matter how much you miss them, no matter how much they miss you. Liam hadn’t been certain she’d really understood much of it, but he’d figured it was enough for now; it was better if she didn’t in some ways, wasn’t haunted by ghosts. Except then, only a few days ago, when Zayn had been out having lunch with Harry, Liam had been talking to Anastasia about Zayn’s trip. And the little girl had looked up at her father with wide, innocent eyes and asked, “Is Unca Zayn gonna be dead too?”

Zayn had held his friend in his arms for long minutes as he recounted the indescribable feeling which had rushed through him at the question; more than simple shock, not quite terror, almost devastation. Liam had bent down to Ana, taken her shoulders and stared into her eyes, carbon copies of his own and whispered furiously, “No, Ana. No. Uncle Zayn is coming back. He has to go away for work, to play his music. But he is coming back.”

_He is coming back. He is coming back. Heiscomingback._

In the airport, Zayn and Liam only gazed quietly at each other – “ _You need me to stay? I’ll stay, I will, I’ll-” “No,” a tight smile, “I’ll be okay. I’ll be- you go.”_  – before Zayn reached out and pulled the other man in for a brief embrace. Then there was only one last tousle of Ana’s curls before he had begun to move away, turning back to wave at the toddler reaching out to him from her perch where Liam had scooped her into his arms.

“Bye guys! See ya Taz; I’ll miss you!”

_I love you._

***

**Author's Note:**

> Aha ! :) x Not sure if youre going to kill me or not after this chap but there it was. Also, I'm going to be away to see Ed Sheeran next weekend (omg pls I am so excited) BUT that means that I probably won't end up updating next week, especially since there's a bit to cover in the next chap so it'll possibly end up another monster. SO I'LL SEE YOU ALL IN TWO WEEKS (note: I will probs post a couple one shots in that time tho so it won't all be quiet from me, just on the off chance that you'd miss me)


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